


Never Been In Love

by frosteds0ulz



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bookstore AU, Fluff, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosteds0ulz/pseuds/frosteds0ulz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete is an employee at an old used book store that he's absolutely sure hasn't seen the light of day in years.  Patrick likes to read there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (This is the first actual fanfic I've ever written so please keep that in mind)

Pete yawned.

To be honest, he didn’t know if getting this job was that great of an idea.

In fact, he’d go so far on to say it’s one of the most boring jobs he’s ever worked.

I mean, honestly, a bookstore? What the hell was he thinking? He knew he loved books, especially their smell (The smell of ink on old paper was heaven to him). Yet, working at a bookstore was something different, especially one that was practically a fucking ghost town.

For fuck’s sake, why was he the only one here, anyways? This dusty hellhole had gotten almost no customers for the past 4 hours he’d been cooped up in here.

It was usually like this here, peaceful and quiet. He usually liked the undisturbed calmness of it, but today he’d been a little fidgety, and he couldn't figure out why.  His eyes roamed wildly around the room, looking for something to do aside from just sit around and let the dust settle.  It seemed a little...stagnant, to him.

Pete was perched on a footstool he found in one aisle, tapping his foot to an imaginary beat. He just wanted to do something, anything, but he didn't know what to do with his hands. All he could do was rearrange the pile of books sitting in front of him, but he’d been doing that for the past 2 hours or so.  A pile of books can only be arranged in so many different ways, he noticed with growing disdain.

On another note, there happened to be a book he had his eye on for a little while.  One with a bright red cover, with golden letters scrawled across the front in some fancy font.  He climbed atop the stool to pull it off the shelf, but it was only slightly out of reach.  Shit.  He tried to stand on his toes, but slipped, resulting in a messy disaster. His foot couldn’t seem to find the right place to rest, and his arm was still reaching for the book, knocking over a few others on his way down.

Pete toppled to the floor with a startled grunt, books scattered everywhere, resulting in a racket he was sure they heard the next street over. The book he was reaching for (the culprit of this disaster) teetered over and fell down, hitting his head and delivering the final blow. _Thank god I’m the only one in here_ , he thought with a sigh.

As if on cue, a voice rang out a few aisles down, loud and clear.

“Did someone fall? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Footsteps hurried towards him, and next thing he knew, a boy was standing right next to his head, looking down at him through worried blue eyes.

Pete shut his eyes and groaned, rubbing his forehead with a tired hand.

“Yeah. Yeah, don’t worry. I’m fine. Just had a little, uh…accident.”

The boy looked relieved and smiled, offering Pete his hand.

“I’m fine,” Pete restated, a little miffed. He pushed himself to his feet with more effort than he thought it would take. How much could he go through in one day? He’s annoyed enough as it is.

The boy frowned a bit and seemed disappointed that his kindness wasn’t appreciated.  Pete realized that he was being rude, so he tried to save himself.

“Thanks for checking on me,” he added. “I…uh…appreciate it.”

The reaction he got was one he hoped for. The boy’s face brightened a little and he grinned.

“No problem!”

At this point, Pete had noticed a couple things.

Firstly, this boy couldn’t have been over 23.

Second, he was like a fucking walking ball of sunshine. Honestly, the guy practically radiated energy and happiness. What the fuck was he on?

Whatever it was, it seemed to be working.

“So,” Pete started again. “You got a name?”

He looked over to where the boy was standing and noticed he had already turned back to the shelf, browsing for something to read. He seemed to be deep into the search, and it didn’t look like he noticed that Pete had said anything.

“Hey, you hear me?”

The boy half turned around, still browsing.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said absently. “Patrick.”

Patrick, huh? Good to know.

He tried to think of something else to say, anything, but he couldn’t think of a damn thing. I mean, the guy wasn’t exactly contributing anything to the conversation on his own.

It was a useless effort, Pete realized.

“Alright, I’m gonna go…see if anything needs to get done. Just let me know if you need something.”

“Sure thing,” Patrick replied over his shoulder, buried nose deep in a book he had chosen off the shelf.

 

As Pete walked away, he noticed that he was moving just a tad bit quicker than he probably should've been.


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick looked down at his watch.

Shit, it’s already 5.

Where the fuck does the time go when you’re in a bookstore? It’s like a little time pocket of its own, and only the luckiest people stumble upon a world like this.

He shut the book he was skimming.  It wasn’t that good, the usual sob story about two teens, complete with sappy love story and all. Most of it was barely worthy of an eye roll.

He should probably get home.  Although he didn’t really know what he’d do there, aside from maybe browse the internet a bit.

He was getting hungry, though,  and had been eyeing that new diner that just opened down the street for a little while. He pondered the possibilities for minute or two, and decided on staying a little bit longer to at least pick out a book he liked.

Patrick went back to perusing the shelves in front of him, but none of the books were particularly catching his interest. He sat down on a footstool and let out a sigh, ready to give up hope, until a book caught his eye.

It was crimson red, with pretty golden writing scrawled across the front. It looked interesting enough, he thought, picking it from the pile on the floor (the only remaining evidence that there was a scuffle here). He read the first page, and found that it was a lot better than the other books he looked at, much to his satisfaction.

Patrick grinned and let out a sigh of relief. Looks like he won’t be leaving empty-handed after all, he chuckled. He read it over once more before shutting it and walking over to the front of the store to buy it, humming a mindless tune to himself.

“Whatcha got there?”

Patrick looked up, and saw that the boy he met in the aisle is behind the counter, watching him expectantly. He must be the only one in the store, Patrick concluded, a little puzzled by this. Aren’t there supposed to be other employees? But then again, it’s a pretty small store, and it’s kinda old, so he could’ve expected as much.

The boy continued, clearly not expecting an answer.

“Oh, yeah, I thought that book looked pretty sweet. Is it any good?”

Patrick glanced at the cover again. A simple enough design, he thought.

“Good enough to capture my interest, I guess.”

The boy looked satisfied with this answer and took the money that Patrick was holding out.

“Enjoy your book.”

Patrick thanked him and quickly walked out of the store.

Alright, now that he had gotten a book that he could enjoy, he could stop by that diner on the way home and get something to eat real quick.

**

Patrick had noticed a couple of things at this point.

As he walked to the diner, he had been deep in thought.

In fact, he had accidentally bumped into a few people, almost tripped over a root in the sidewalk, practically stepped on some poor dog’s tail (The owner had given him a dirty look), and  narrowly avoided being hit by a car.

Second, his thoughts were particularly focused on that boy he met in the bookstore, alarmingly so, and this frustrated the fuck out of him.

What made Patrick more frustrated than anything else, however, was the fact that he had no fucking clue why he was so focused on the boy.  He just couldn’t seem to take his mind off him, no matter how hard he tried.

He briefly ran over the possibilities, and concluded that he was just tired and needed some rest.

Yeah, that seemed about right.

 

He skipped the diner and went straight to bed without a second thought.


	3. Chapter 3

What the fuck was that?

What the FUCK was that?

Enjoy your book? That’s like, the lamest shit you could ever say in that situation. Jesus Christ, Wentz, Get your fucking shit together.

Pete slapped his forehead and immediately winced in pain.

He bent down to look into the much-too-small mirror in the cramped bookstore bathroom, and found that his forehead was already turning dark shades of black and blue from when the book fell on it.

Great.  Fantastic. Just what he needed, more fucking injuries.

This was turning out to be a hell of a day in many ways, and about 99% of them involved pain and misery.

The other 1%, however, was a different story.

What was his name? P...P something.

Patrick, he remembered.

Pa-trick.

It rolled off his tongue with a flick and a smile, and it lingered in his ears long after he said it.

He thought about it for a bit, and Pete decided that he’d never forget the name of that boy, not if he tried his hardest.

And to be honest, he didn’t really mind that.

Not really.

Ow.

His cheeks were hurting.  

Pete briefly brushed his fingertips across them and realized that he had been smiling this whole time, wider than he had smiled in a long time.  That’s when he realized that he _had_ to see that boy again.

But how?

His smile disappeared when he realized that he had forgotten to give Patrick his name. Or his number, even. He hadn't given Patrick anything, and it was too late.

Pete groaned loud enough to be heard by everyone around him, but that’s when he remembered that he was completely alone in the store.

It was like a vicious cycle that just kept repeating itself no matter what he did.  The whole day was a mess that he really didn't want to clean up.

He was bored, for sure, but also frustrated, stuck, and angry, but he wasn’t sure what he was actually angry _at._

He just wished things had gone differently.

And Patrick…he didn’t know what to make of him.

I mean, for Christ’s sake, he’s only talked to the guy once, if you could even count that as talking. It was small talk, more or less, and it was nothing.

But in the hours after he met him, Pete couldn’t get the sound of Patrick’s goddamned voice out of his fucking head.

And his eyes, his eyes, Patrick’s eyes were the most beautiful thing in the world- clear and blue and just so fucking _pretty._ Pete was sure that he was going fucking insane at this point, because _Jesus Christ_ he couldn’t get him out of his head.

He had to know more, he had to know more, he had to know it _now._

He had to know more, because the last thing he realized before he shut off the lights and closed up the store, was how hard his heart was pounding when he thought about the way the kid smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

The numbers on Patrick’s alarm clock flashed 7:00, and he reached out to smack it with a tired arm before sitting up and grumbling, stretching his arms wide over his head.

Christ.

It’s like mornings come earlier every day.

Patrick swung his legs over the side of the bed, yawning loudly and running his hand through his wild mess of hair.  He thought about how much he hated getting up at this time, pausing to ponder the question:

 _Why_ did he ever choose to get up this early?

He made a mental note to sleep in at _least_ a half hour later next time.

With a grunt, Patrick slid off the bed and shuffled over to the bathroom, glancing in the mirror before picking up his toothbrush and squirting a mass of toothpaste onto it.

As he was brushing his teeth, he thought about his plans for the day, but then he remembered that he didn’t really have any plans for the day.

But.

He could always hang out at that bookstore down the road, the one with the cute-

Patrick shook his head vigorously, trying to clear the thought out of his mind.

Just to make it clear to himself, he _did not think that the kid who worked at the bookstore was cute._

The bookstore kid wasn’t cute.

He wasn’t.

At all.

Patrick spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth out, then turned off the light and walked back into the bedroom.

What was his name? Did he even introduce himself?

Huh.

So now the guy that worked at the bookstore knew Patrick’s name, but Patrick didn’t know his name.

He made another mental note to ask for his name when he saw him again.

**

Patrick stood at the front desk, scanning the store for any signs of life.

Did this place have different shifts or something like that?

Maybe it was the guy’s day off, or maybe he was just in the back, or maybe-

“Can I help you with anything?”

Patrick spun around, and saw that _he_ was standing behind the desk, waiting expectantly.

He wasn’t there a second ago, what the fuck? He must’ve walked up when he was turned around, Patrick concluded.

“Yeah, not really, I mean…no thanks, I’m fine,” Patrick stammered, blushing and looking down at the floor, at the ceiling, his shoes, anything besides the incredibly cute boy in front of him.

Jesus Christ, this was a lot more difficult than he had told himself when he was standing in front of the mirror this morning.

“Alright,” the boy chuckled, clearly amused by this. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

Patrick nodded and got the hell out of there.

**

This was the worst crush he’s had since fucking high school.

Honestly, though. Is this high school? Sure as hell feels like it.

Act your age, Patrick. Act your fucking age and man the hell up. You’re 24. Act. Like. It. Stop this teenage bullshit and gather enough courage to-

To what?

What did he actually _want_ to do?

Ask the guy out?

Patrick sighed and rolled over onto his stomach, suddenly feeling queasy.

How was he gonna do this?

How was he gonna get that courage, the courage he needed to hold a decent conversation with the guy, let alone ask him out?

To be completely honest, Patrick couldn’t even look the dude in the eyes after he realized how he felt, and this didn’t help the growing ball of ice in his stomach.

Lunch suddenly seemed like a bad idea.

Patrick briefly thought about the subject of his affections, and even visualizing his face was enough to make him blush.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something else, anything else--

He thought about kissing.

Patrick’s face lit up bright red, and all his thoughts tripped over one another at the same time, ending in a jumbled pile of emotions and ideas.

He moved his head a bit and found that there was a wet spot on the left side of his head, and he realized that he had been drooling.

God, is it even possible to get that embarrassed when you’re completely and utterly alone?

His heart was pounding out of his chest, practically, and it felt lighter than he had ever experienced.

He thought it was gonna burst right there on the spot.

Patrick let out a long, exasperated sigh and lifted himself off the bed, plodding over to the kitchen to get something to eat.

He was really fucking hungry.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, Joe, it’s me. I just wanted to ask you about something…”

Pete was seated in a booth at some diner he barely knew, idly chewing at some breakfast thing involving eggs, he guessed. He forgot the name of the place. It just opened, or maybe he was confusing it with that coffee shop down the block…

Whatever the case, it wasn’t important.

He had something else on his mind.

Of course Joe hadn’t bothered to pick up, he hardly ever does, Pete grumbled to himself.

I mean, he had the internet, but why rely on somebody else’s information when he had _Joe_?

Pete sat there for a couple more minutes before his phone started to buzz, screen lighting up.

He eagerly picked it up.

“Hey! Yeah, I got something to ask you. No, this isn’t another sex question. That was one time, c’mon, man…”

Pete heard somebody clear their throat and looked up, seeing that a waitress was standing there expectantly.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“Nah, I think I’m good, thanks,” he replied.

He waited until she was out of earshot to resume talking.

“Sorry about that. Anyways, I got some questions about…well, I wanna know how to ask someone out. I mean, I’ve done it before, but never…” Pete trailed off, unsure of how he should continue.

“How should I put it…I want to ask out a guy. But I— stop laughing! This isn’t funny,” he hissed. “I’m serious.”

Pete rubbed his temples, trying to regain his patience.

“Don’t push my limits, Trohman. Just give me advice. What should I say? I’ve never done this before.”

He was met with silence on the other end; Joe was probably trying to collect his thoughts.

“I should—wait, wait, I should be writing these down,” Pete fumbled with a pen, grabbing a grease stained napkin before waiting, pen in hand.

He jotted down notes as quick as he could to keep up with Joe’s thoughts. Joe got carried away sometimes, but that was only when he was really worked up.

“Is that all? Alright, thanks, dude.” Pete shoved the napkin in his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder, getting ready to leave.

“Yeah, sure thing. Thanks again. Seeya.”

Pete found himself pumping his fist in victory, almost giddy about this new knowledge. He looked up and saw a few people staring at him, frozen with forkfuls of food halfway to their mouths.

He realized how fucking ridiculous he was being. Ears burning in shame, Pete paid his bill and quickly exited the diner.

He spent the walk home thinking about what he was going to say the next time he saw Patrick.

When he got home, Pete spent a full 10 minutes collapsed on his bed just thinking about what was too lame to say, what was too dorky, what was girly as hell, and what was fake as fuck. Eventually, he decided on just being himself.

Whatever the hell that meant.

He was probably going to end up completely fucking this up, he realized, and sighed deeply.

Just don’t fuck up too badly, and you’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

This self-reassurance bullshit never worked no matter how hard he tried, and he had tried it many times.

Why did he keep trying? Why did he try at all?

He’d just end up fucking things up, like he always did.

His whole _life_ was one giant fuck-up.

After spending the next 5 minutes staring at a spot on the ceiling, Pete fell asleep with the lights on.


	6. Chapter 6

Patrick was halfway to the bookstore when he realized how dumb of an idea this was.

Probably his worst idea yet, he thought.

He had been to the store several times after the first incident, always careful to avoid the boy working there alone, always wondering why there was never anyone else but them.  Like they were in their own little world, treading on glass. Careful not to break anything.

Asking Andy for help wasn’t the best idea, and Patrick knew that, but he had been desperate. Desperate enough to turn to a guy who he was sure had never dealt with any of this stuff in his life, it seemed, since everyone seemed to love him anyways. Andy could probably get a date faster than he could say his own name.

Patrick turned his attention back to the cracks spreading on the sidewalk.

With each step, a new butterfly sprouted in his gut, until his palms were sticky with sweat and his heart was pounding in his ears, blood rushing faster and faster until—

Patrick stopped just outside the doors.

He had arrived.

He was shaking, vision blurred, mouth filled with nothing but a bitter taste, head filled with thoughts of _what if_ …

As his trembling hand reached for the door handle, he only felt one emotion.

He opened the door slowly, as if it were a bomb about to go off, and the dusty smell of books flooded his nose.  It was a smell that calmed him down a bit, soothing his nerves and giving him an extra boost of morale.

Just the thing he needed before stepping through into a familiar world with an unfamiliar feeling.

He wasn’t ready to label it yet, that freaked him out like crazy. He just knew it was different, strange, exciting even. But it definitely wasn't a bad feeling. It thrilled him to no end, and it was always welcome, no matter the situation.

So why… _why_ …was he dreading it now?

He forced his legs to move forward, knowing that if he didn’t make a move now, it was never.

And he didn’t want to mess this up.

As the front desk came into view, Patrick saw the boy.

The boy saw him.

And all his fears went away just like that, as if somebody had flicked a switch inside his mind.

**

“So, do you wanna, like…”

Pete was snapped out of his daydream by Patrick’s voice, blinking away the remnants and turning to focus his attention on the boy in front of him.  They had been in the back room for a couple hours, surrounded by stacks of books needing to be shelved.  Talking about..nothing, really, just whatever came to mind.

“What’d you say? Sorry, I was...”

“Ah, never mind. It was dumb anyways,” Patrick looked a little nervous, Pete observed, but also a tad relieved.

“No, no, go ahead. My bad entirely.”

“Nah, it really wasn’t anything…”

“Alright then. If you say so. So anyways, you were telling me about the time—“

“Actually, I gotta go. I got somewhere to be in a half hour,” Patrick moved to get up, but stumbled a little and nearly fell over, but Pete caught his hand before that could happen.

They stayed that way for a few seconds, but to Pete, those few seconds seemed like centuries.

Frozen in time, both boys not quite sure what to do.

Pete regained his bearings first, flushing a bright red and letting go of Patrick’s hand.  Patrick fell back down, landing on the floor on his butt with a grunt of surprise.

“OhgodI’msosorry,” blurted Pete, covering his face with his hands and blushing harder.

He wanted to disappear.

Patrick hoisted himself to his feet unsteadily, shooting a glare in Pete’s direction.

Pete tried to offer a hasty apology, but couldn't really get the words out.

“No, no, it’s fine, really, it’s okay, don’t worry,” Patrick stumbled over his words, trying to reassure him. Pete just stared at his feet and tried to think of something that would make the situation less awkward.

He couldn't bring himself to look up at the apologetic kid in front of him.

After several seconds, Pete glanced up and saw that Patrick was still there.  He knew he had to say something to break the silence.

“That was…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Don’t you have a…”

“Yeah. I do.”

“You should get to that.”

“Right.”

“So…see you around?”

“I guess?”

Pete watched Patrick stand up and make his way to the door.

“Patrick, wait.”

Patrick froze.

“My name is Pete.”

“And?”

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself properly. I’m sorry.” Pete winced at how strangled his apology sounded, like he wasn’t really sorry for never telling Patrick his name. But he was.

Patrick just kept walking, shutting the door behind him.

Pete wondered what he had done wrong.

He didn’t sleep that night.

Not much, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm suuuuper not ever going to finish this fic so like if you were expecting me to....oops


End file.
